Monday, May 26, 2008
but ghosts tend me to be careless
trying to want us now
but they're gone, somehow we keep them around
decibully
trying to want us now
but they're gone, somehow we keep them around
decibully
sometimes things are ok. they coast along, and you don't haunt me. but most of the time, you do. sometimes i talk to you, planning the words i would say were we to meet again. "it's just that i don't WANT to stop feeling like this. what i'm feeling is something i never thought possible. it's something i fear i'll never feel again. and what i don't understand is how i could be so sure of something, and for you to not feel it. i swear it was like electricity, that first time we spoke. electric. i knew it then and there, that this was my destiny. that i went to rutgers for a reason, that i'd chosen this path because it was the correct one. and right now, what i feel for you, it feels exactly like i'd always imagined love would feel. that unconditional forever type of love. the truth is, i've loved you since we first shared a conversation over a smoke outside of the history building. i never stopped. i will never stop. and despite the fact that i'll probably end up settling for some inferior version of you, you will always ALWAYS have every inch of my heart. every last inch of it."
i've thought those lines so many times. we haven't spoken in weeks. i have no reason to be hung up on you. but i was never able to forget you. over the years that passed i never forgot how i felt when i was with you. how i got butterflies every time i saw you for SEVEN YEARS. granted i didn't see you at all for four of those seven years. but for the two years that i saw you at least twice weekly, i got butterflies every time. and for the six recent weeks all i had to do was think of you and i had butterflies. i can still smell yr skin. i can see yr smile. i can see you sitting on this exact couch, telling me stories, looking up spacechimps, chuck norris facts, guys that look like kenny rogers.. i swear i can see us laying on the floor, talking about fjords, and how yr grandfather could sleep anywhere. and how you like sleeping on floors. how we ruined the coffee twice. the way you looked when you said "i baked you a pie" outside on the street. the way you looked into my eyes while explaining that it was simply too late for me to drive home, i was going to have to stay there. the way you kissed me that first kiss.... that kiss. i still get all sorts of insane inside when i imagine you with yr head resting on my chest.. the way you hesitated while lifting yr face to mine.. the way you searched my eyes with yrs as we laid on the couch watching some woody allen movie..
you know, i know that a life with you wouldn't be easy. i know that there would always be the looming threat of alcoholism, that at any time you could return to the bottle. i've made up the scenarios in my head, you coming home drunk at 4am... but those things seem so impossible. it was always, and still is, a risk i'd be willing to face in order to have the potential for true love.
but love isn't real. because if it was, you would feel this too. you would be thinking of me right now. did the "knee sock material" clue in this sunday's times make you think of me? do you ever miss waking up with me on a sunday morning? no. no, you don't. because love is something that people invent. and sometimes, two people invent love for each other and they end up together. but not me. i'm born to lose. and you are my only true love. you are everything i ever wanted. you are everything. you are everything.
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